


Indiscretion

by i_am_sion



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Quickies, handjob, there's a recurring theme in my porn fic and it's seteth is a whore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_sion/pseuds/i_am_sion
Summary: Seteth likes the idea of getting caught, and so Byleth spoils him rotten.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Seteth, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Indiscretion

Seteth and Byleth’s relationship was, in forms both romantic and sexual, kept a secret. 

There were only three people that knew about their being together. The first of these was, of course, Rhea, who permitted their romance so long as it did not obstruct their duties to the Church and Academy. It didn’t, of course. 

The second was Jeralt, who was almost immediately informed by Byleth, much to Seteth’s dread. The old mercenary was, in a word, supportive of his son finding love, though he had odd ways of showing it. Ways that were definitely not good for Seteth’s heart-- a vaguely cutting remark here, a narrowed glance there. It took some time to adjust (for the both of them), but they got there eventually. 

Flayn, being the clever girl that she was, quickly discovered the root of her dear brother’s secretive scuttering about past curfew-- this, and she once caught his and the new professor’s hands intertwined behind their backs during a meeting. She was the third.

So in short, all the people that really had to know already knew.

It wasn’t as if being found out would have gotten them in trouble. They did suppose there would inevitably be calls for Seteth abusing his power or some similar nonsense. No doubt Hilda or some other chatterbox would make an overblown drama out of it, but other than that, there really would be no problem with their romance being out in the open.

Yes. There wouldn’t be an issue save for one tiny thing: 

_Seteth found it exciting._

In the beginning, he attributed it to the sex. The newness of it all. Finally reigniting that old spark in him after so many years. Then further down the line, he thought it was the romance. Maybe it was the flutter in his chest when Byleth slipped him notes telling him where to meet after classes or the heat on his face when they kissed for the first time (and the second time and the third time and every time after that).

And when Flayn found out… That was when Seteth finally knew what it was.

He told himself many times that he was going to tell her. She deserved to know, after all, and yet when they were discovered… The shame he felt crawling up his spine was nothing short of a thrill-- warm and tight and buzzing in his ears. That was what it was.

_The secretiveness of it all._

It was naughty and perverse and...

_Exciting._

Every little thing they do feels as if they’re just asking to be caught red-handed. The way their pinkies wrap around each other’s behind their backs. The way their eyes meet during meetings. The way the tension builds in the atmosphere around them, crackling and heavy like the onset of storms-- like hot and cold fronts meeting with clashing and thundering. The clouds swallow the sky and the wind howls, pushing and pulling this way and that… Until finally the rain comes, refreshing and sweet.

Seteth sneaks an occasional glance at Byleth as he prattles on about the day’s agenda. He and the other teachers are gathered around his desk in a semicircle. Their eyes meet if only for half a second, and already Seteth can feel the jitters begin to settle in his stomach. Does Manuela notice? Does Hanneman know?

He stops himself, his face purposely buried in the itinerary, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Byleth is staring back.

What is… What is he looking at? Their eyes don’t quite seem to meet. Or was that just in his head? There’s something behind his usually glossy gaze. It’s bright. Fiery.

Seteth could never really read him. He could never tell if the dangerous game they played was exciting for him as well. Did he enjoy it? Was it pleasurable for him?

“...Professor.” Seteth clears his throat, and Byleth’s eyes finally look into his own. So he wasn’t imagining it. “Do you have any questions? You seem distracted.”

Byleth’s gaze wavers for a second. He shakes his head at length. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Right...”

Seteth puts this out of his mind for the moment, and the meeting carries on without another hitch beyond that. The day’s schedule is neither long nor complicated, but the staff knows Seteth is a stickler for details. When he is done, the archbishop’s right hand man dismisses them. 

“That will be all for today. I realize that was quite a bit, so let’s get to work.” Seteth brings his hands together and begins to usher the rest of the staff out of his office. Byleth trails a second behind, so he turns around and gestures for him to follow. “Are you coming?”

The professor shakes his head but approaches anyway. His gaze is still glued to some nonspecific part of his face.

For every step Seteth takes back, Byleth takes forward.

Byleth is watching Seteth’s mouth, intently locked on.

He had been watching Seteth’s mouth the entire time.

He places a hand against the professor’s chest in a weak attempt to push him away, but Byleth’s face only looms closer and closer until their lips meet, his tongue gliding past Seteth’s teeth with little resistance. He tastes like mint tea, and he smells like soap and the grease they use to oil weapons.

Once he manages to pull himself back, Seteth pushes out what little air was left in his lungs to whimper his lover’s name.

“Hm.” The professor makes an uninterested noise in response, and seeing as Seteth is no longer interested in kissing, he begins to occupy his mouth with the other's throat. He starts to undo the tiny clasps that line his collar, which they found incredibly useful for hiding hickeys from time to time, and kisses down his skin. 

“Byleth,” he whispers again, growing shaky. Growing weak.

After undoing one last clasp by Seteth’s clavicle, Byleth’s hands pause. “...what?” His voice echoes, traveling far down the stone hallway, heavy with impatience. He’s breathing down Seteth’s neck, waiting for him to answer. He expects him to ask for it.

Seteth wasn't one to beg.

But Byleth’s hands had traveled low while Seteth wasn’t paying attention and gave him a firm, purposeful squeeze, making him sigh. “You’re already hard.”

His last bit of resolve slips out of him past his lips. “Byleth,” he groans again, growing frustrated. It’s all he could do to keep himself from crying out “more,” but it seems to suffice. He’s turned over so that his chest is pressed against the bookshelves. As his fingers curl into fists against the spines of his collection, Seteth arches his back, pressing his ass against Byleth, who grips his hips hard enough to bruise even through his alb.

He grows comfortable in his embrace-- he relaxes knowing that the office is empty and the two of them are alone. Byleth lavishes the side of his neck with kisses, and by rote he tilts his head away to give him easy access.

And somewhere between the teasing touches and sloppy kissing… Between the sweet sighs that pass between his and Byleth’s lips… It is only now that Seteth realizes (with a delicious jolt up his spine) the doors are wide open.

“The doors--” He says, only managing to breathe those two words into existence after tearing himself away from the other. He makes a move to turn the corner-- to close the door and give themselves some privacy but is immediately yanked back by the arm and he is back again, his chest against the wall. 

“I thought you liked this..?” It’s neither a question nor a search for his approval. He’s obviously teasing him. “I can stop.”

So he says, but his hands continue to fondle and touch Seteth’s body leisurely. He gently palms under his blue vestment and up and down his thighs. He grips the hem of his pants, making as if to pull them off… And _then_ he stops.

This makes Seteth roll his eyes into the back of his damn skull. Of course he doesn’t want him to stop. He moans his name a fourth and final time, and Byleth truly begins to move.

"Shh, you'll get us caught," comes the professor's voice slithering against his jaw. His breath spins in his ear as he speaks, in and out in steady waves. The professor pinches the pointed tip of this ear between his teeth and gives it a little tug, pulling a yelp from his lover. Seteth's voice carries much farther down the hallway than either of them would have liked it to, causing Byleth to click his tongue. "What did I just say…?"

For a brief moment, his hands withdraw from the hem of Seteth’s pants. Seteth watches as the gloves are peeled off his fingers and tossed off somewhere unimportant. The pads of Byleth's middle and index fingers invade his mouth, and though Seteth whines, he is effectively gagged. The younger man's skin tastes of salt and sweat.

With his other hand, Byleth hikes Seteth’s pants down, just enough to grab his cock, and elicits the softest sigh of relief from him. “Hold this,” he tells him firmly, and Seteth’s shaky hand holds the bottom hem of his vestment up and out of the way. 

“Use me,” Byleth murmurs into the shell of the other’s ear, and as he does he grinds his hips into Seteth’s ass-- _shoving_ him into his hand. “Quickly. Do you want someone to see us?”

There’s a dangerous lilt to his voice, subtle and indiscernible to all but Seteth.

Even with all the layers of clothing separating them, he feels something hard press against his back, and the realization has his own cock jumping in Byleth’s palm.

_He enjoys this game they’re playing._

A breath catches in Seteth’s throat, and he trembles, gingerly bucking into Byleth’s fingers. The heat envelopes him. It shoots up from the balls of his feet, white hot and in shocking waves, all the way to the crown of his head, and he shakes in his hold. He forgets how to breathe for a moment, so thrilled by this development that he gags. Seteth chokes on Byleth’s fingers. When Byleth retracts them from his mouth, there is a viscous strand of spit connecting his fingertips to Seteth’s tongue. It glints in the light and stretches and thins out before breaking right before Seteth’s eyes.

“You--” He pauses to swallow. It’s the only thing he can do to feign composure. “You planned this.” Seteth feels Byleth’s head tilt ever so slightly to the side in the smallest of shrugs. The grip tightens vaguely around his cock, making him whimper. 

“ _You_ wanted this,” the younger man retorts.

Seteth has no response to that, besides a small, keening noise. He’s right.

“Why are you like this?” It’s not a malicious question at all. In fact, the professor seems to be smiling as he says it-- not that Seteth could see. He rocks his hips against his ass, reminding him to move. “It’s like you want to get found out. Do you like the idea of getting caught?”

When Byleth rocks forward, Seteth pushes back, and from there they slip into an idle rhythm. Back and forth, almost silent, save for the small groans that manage to escape Seteth’s lips. They remain like that for a minute, moving purely just so Seteth can fuck into Byleth’s hand. He dares not look down. The thought of seeing his own cock trapped between Byleth's fingers, his head red and slick…

Just the _thought_ of it is both humiliating and thrilling.

All of this is. It always has been.

When Seteth cranes his neck around, searching for his lips, Byleth gladly indulges him with a kiss. Lips locked together, he flips him over so they’re face to face, and he presses Seteth’s back firmly into the bookshelves before lifting the other’s leg and guiding it to wrap around his waist. It’s easier to bring him even closer this way.

But there’s a dilemma in this position. Sandwiched between the bookshelves and Byleth’s front, Seteth can hardly move. He grinds against Byleth’s hand, desperate for friction. He finds his face is now buried into Byleth’s shoulder, which is probably for the best. His moans are muffled by his shirt, each whiny little note extinguished by the fabric. Sweat pricks from his skin and beads from his forehead, sliding down quietly-- _quietly_ down the sharp angle of his nose, and it tickles. It’s hot. Almost suffocating.

“You’re going to get us in trouble one day,” the professor murmurs. His breath dances past Seteth’s ears, and it makes him shiver.

“Byleth--” Seteth pulls away and gasps, curling in on himself so now his forehead is against his “secret” lover’s shoulder. “Ah--!” He pitches forward and clamps his mouth shut, trying to snuff out a loud groan as Byleth quite literally takes things into his own hands. 

“Do you _want_ to get caught?” The professor asks once again as he begins to jerk him off, fast and hard.

“N-no--” The poor bastard keens, breathy and light, trying as hard as he can to keep it in. His fist shakes, still desperately clutching the bottom of his robe; his other hand is balled tight against the professor’s chest. As something white hot begins to pool in the pit of his stomach, his vision starts to go blurry at the edges but Byleth physically yanks his attention back. He tangles his fingers in his green hair and _pulls_ so that they’re eye to eye.

“You act like it,” the younger man says, almost nonchalantly. “You were already hard when I approached you, remember?”

Of course he remembers.

“Byleth--” He whines, unable to look away. He sees the room over the other’s shoulder, and it spins and grows distant and hazy. “Byleth, Byleth, Byleth--”

“Shh.” Something… mischievous curls at the corners of Byleth’s lips, but Seteth only catches a glimpse of it before that very grin is pressed tight against his own mouth.

The heat comes in waves still, pulsing mercilessly through Seteth's pleasure-wracked body. The fire in his core grows and expands until it swallows him whole. His eyes roll back into his skull--

The room abruptly stops twirling around them. 

When Seteth comes to, he can barely stand on his own two feet. His hip aches from his leg being propped against the professor's waist for so long, and he can hear his own heart as it slows down in his ears. With each ragged breath, the beat thunders. It rumbles. It recedes... 

Byleth is already wiping the mess from his palm with a handkerchief. "You should hurry and get cleaned up. Everyone else is probably looking for us."

It's almost tempting for Seteth to say: "Let them find us."

_...almost._

**Author's Note:**

> this was my piece for the nsfw setleth side zine the divine and the undone -- my first zine and i was assigned porn lmao,, it was SUCH a pleasure to contribute to this zine all the artists and writers are so talented *swoon* thank you so much to those who supported this project!!! other ppl are posting their full pieces as well so check out the [twitter](https://twitter.com/setlethzine) to see them !


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